Staff and Sword
by EK
Summary: The sky is falling. The world is ending. This story has a second chapter. The story of how great partnerships...don't always start so great.
1. Chapter 1

Hiya. The idea was easy to form, but the story was exasperatingly difficult to brew in the head. The dialogue just won't formulate, argh! And I think this is the first time I got close to preparing the whole 5 chapters before posting even one chapter. The rest of the chapters still have gaping holes in them, and I'm not the best at battle scenes, so comments and suggestions are welcome. Golly, sorry for ranting like this!

The usual. Ain't mine. Except this story. This IS mine. Hope you like.

…………………………..

"Rookies," he shook his head.

The newcomers had not spent an hour inside the base, and already he was annoyed at them. They were loitering around the open grounds, chatting loudly, criticizing the facilities, and teasing the regular soldiers.

The dark-skinned swordsman with dark wavy hair was on pretty good terms with soldiers on their base, but rookies always irked him. They thought they were good. They thought they were smart. They thought they could defeat any mecha samurai that came their way. They thought they owned the base.

He hated rookies, because he knew he used to be like that. He hated being reminded of the fact, every time a new batch of recruits joined them on the base.

As in this case. The commanders got this idea of joining the swordsmen with the cruiser pilots on a few missions. The swordsmen were his batch, already a few years in service, and all signs of rookie-ness already eliminated. But the pilots, according to reports, were almost new. They had only been in one or two fights prior to the current assignment, and mostly in the sidelines. This group of pilots was still too full of themselves, too confident, too brash.

"Don't be so harsh," his friend said. "Everybody already fought a few battles before coming here."

"I suppose."

His friend jabbed him on the side. "Shimada, you're too serious about everything."

But as they were talking, an argument between pilots and swordsmen was slowly erupting into a big brawl. Both ends were calling each other names each side resented. Fists were already clenched. A few weapons had been drawn.

At the center of it all was a blonde-haired young man holding a stick the length of an arm. He was rather thin but not lanky, and was as tall as the rest of the squadron. He was weaving across the increasingly heated crowd with a confidence that bordered on self-importance.

The group of swordsmen parted as they saw the dark-haired young man enter the fray. "Who started this?"

The swordsmen all pointed at the blonde-haired young man. Even the pilots pointed at him as the source, also feeling that aura of leadership around the dark-haired swordsman.

"Stop this nonsense right now," he said. "You are guests on our base. Do not make us show disrespect."

"And who made you our general, to talk like that?" the blonde-haired pilot grinned and asked.

"We do not want a fight, so please stop haranguing our men."

"I don't want a fight, either," he said. Then he added, "But I do want to see if you guys are as good as people say you are."

Many of the young men placed hands on sword handles. One even stepped forward. "Shimada, the cruisers just filled them with hot air. Let me put this airhead in his place!"

"I'll show you who's full of hot air!" the blonde young man said. "Who's your best swordie? Lemme have a go."

Now all of the swordsmen placed hands on their swords, and some of them drew them out. The one called Shimada, however, raised a hand and silenced the assembly. "Stand back," the dark haired swordsman stepped forward himself and drew his sword. "The boy is mine."

"BOY?" the blonde one drew out the staff to its full length. "I'm 21, and I'll show you who's a boy!"

"Don't do it, Roji!" one of the blond man's associates warned. "That guy's the best in his regiment!"

"Oh, really?" he smiled and pointed his staff at his opponent. "I'd like to see."

One of the men of the regiment raised 2 coins. "Two silver pieces says Shimada takes him down!"

The blonde's friend suddenly retaliated. "My two pieces says your swordie won't last a minute against Roji!"

"You're on!"

Soon shouts and bets circled the two young men, while they sized each other up and circled. The blonde held the staff in front of him with both hands. The other man re-sheathed his sword but kept his hand on the handle, in preparatory stance.

"Well? What are you waiting for, boy?" Shimada asked.

"What are YOU waiting for?" his opponent asked back.

"Have it your way," the swordsman said.

He ran forward and drew his sword at the very last moment, swinging it back and forth across the staff to slice it. But he only heard a succession of clangs. His opponent laughed as he twirled the staff in front of him, swung down over a shoulder then swung up at the ribs. Shimada fell back and panted.

The pilot returned to preparatory stance with the staff in front of him. "Special-grade steel. Light but strong. No sword can slice it. Cool, huh?"

Shimada swung the sword across to hit his opponent's chest, but met the staff in mid-attack. He quickly swept up and hit the pilot above his left ear, forcing the younger man to back away two steps. The swordsman tried a direct thrust, but the pilot held the staff like a bat, brushed the sword aside, and swung at his knees, making Shimada buckle over.

He jumped back, twirled the staff over his head, gave another sudden swing to the side of his opponent, and finished with the staff diagonally at his back. "Had enough?" he challenged.

"Is that all?" Shimada grinned and charged in.

Roji planted the staff on the ground then jumped over Shimada's head, with enough time to trip him again. The swordsman swiped at the pilot's feet. The pilot jumped and swung straight down to the swordsman's head, but was blocked by the sword handle. He jumped a few feet away.

"You're still not good enough!" Shimada said.

"Don't underestimate me!" the blonde young man shouted and drew out the blade at the end of his staff.

He ran with a straight thrust of the spear at the swordsman. Shimada immediately blocked the blade with his sword, only inches away from his face. But in a split second the blonde pierced the sword and sent it flying, charged in and knocked the swordsman to the floor. He quickly stood up and thrust the spear inches away from his opponent's face.

"Impressive," the opponent said, panting and dotted with cold sweat.

"Thank you," the blonde smirked.

"For a boy."

"WHAT?"

The blonde took his hands off his spear and drew fists, driving one of them straight for the swordsman's face. He was only pulled back by his friend, while his opponent was also pulled back by his comrades.

"Be glad he pulled me away," the one called Roji threatened his opponent.

Shimada asked to be released, and showed a smaller blade with a smirk. "Be glad I didn't stab you."

Any more verbal jabs were stopped by a long-winded "ATeeeeeeeeeeen-SHUN!". The men formed two groups of four rows, the swordsmen apart from the pilots.

A group of middle-aged men in smart uniforms walked in front of them, and the young men saluted. The men stopped at the center, and one man stepped forward. This man began to speak in a loud voice, so all four rows could hear.

"Gentlemen, you have been assembled here to create a new force against our enemies. Over the course of this war, we have noticed the increase in mechanical samurai versus the numbers of samurai who utilize Yakan "kettles". The swordsmen will soon be unable to fight on their own against these robots. Thus, we will now begin to employ more cruisers in our defense. These cruisers will be manned by the pilots we have assembled here, some of the best in their class. Train and perform well, gentlemen. Your performance will be the benchmark for the widespread use of this system within our clan."

All of them felt the honor being bestowed on them, and the responsibility being given. "YES, SIR!" came the resounding reply.

"A pilot will be paired with a swordsman," the commander announced. He pointed to a board near him. "Find your numbers, gentlemen. We will assemble tomorrow at dawn for training. That will be all. Dismissed!"

The soldiers eagerly crowded around the board with their names and numbers. A few of them quickly found their partners, and immediately fell to chatting with each other. The blonde young pilot and the swordsman named Shimada calmly let most of the troop finish and thin out away from the board. When finally only a handful of people stood in front of the board, Shimada walked up to the board himself, and began looking for his name.

It was an easy task. He was placed in the first unit, thus his name was on the top of the list. First to fight, first to die, but also first to honors. It was a great position. He quickly looked at the name of the pilot who would share in that honor with him. Someone named Shichiroji. He shrugged.

But…the blonde annoying boy had been called Roji…and the rest of the pilots had already left. Only one was left near the board and scanning the list. The blonde annoying boy called Roji.

Shimada's eyes widened in disbelief, as he looked at his opponent. "I am paired with HIM?"

The blonde pilot had also noted the list, and saw the dark-haired samurai. He smirked at him. "Well, what a coincidence! Howdy, new partner." He extended a hand. "The name's Shichiroji."

"Hmph," and the other man turned his back on him and walked away.

………………………….

Argh, that spear fight was hard to imagine (faints). And Fai-san could do better than that, the few times I've seen him use a staff (faints again…).

Here's the basic story of why this story exists. Some of you know I'm on a mission to create at least one story for all the seven guys. There are only 2 left to make for. But, egad, this is the toughest one to make so far!

For this particular guy, I figured I can only do it when the partner is present, because I know the partner better. Also, a Japanese fanart site has incredible pictures of what Kanbei possibly looked like as a rookie soldier, and Shichiroji as a young adult with hair down (Awww….YEAH.). They served as the inspirations for this story, which I guess already has many Japanese counterparts (if the K/S project members have anything to say about it, hehe.). This is my take, without plagiarizing anyone's work. Finally, Samuraiko's impressive work did help me pin down Kanbei's characterization. Hope you like and keep reading.


	2. Chapter 2

Narrizan, this is all your fault. Thanks.

While hospital life is the major reason why this story hasn't gone anywhere, it's a poor excuse. ("intensive care unit" was completed during clerkship.) More importantly, I wasn't particularly happy with the story I had in my head. So I let it hang. The current story in my head isn't complete either, so I'm not making promises on the next chapter yet.

Anyways, hoping you like this. Sorry it is rather choppy. I'm not completely here, similar to what happened to the middle of several RK fics and the only long GB fic.

……………………………

The pilot and the swordsman met again the next day. They stood next in line to each other at the mess hall for breakfast.

"Hiya, partner," the pilot greeted.

The swordsman did not reply.

"Not very chatty, are you."

Nothing. Shimada moved a step away from him, as the line moved.

The pilot shrugged. "Oh, well. I'd rather work with someone who doesn't talk but who's reliable. What about you? Come on, I gotta learn a few things about my partner before practice, right?"

Shimada presented his food tray and moved along the line. But he was now clenching his teeth, controlling his irritation. His peace was being disturbed, so early in the morning.

But the pilot would not be ignored. He got his breakfast and scooted beside the swordsman again. "Let's start with something simple. How old are you, anyway, Grandpa?"

"Does it matter to you, rookie?" Shimada finally answered.

"The name's Shichiroji, capiche? Not rookie. Grandpa!"

"Kanbei." The swordsman kept walking without looking at the pilot. "Shimada Kanbei."

"Alright, Your Highness, Kanbei-sama!" He bowed with a grand flourish and skipped off with his food tray, laughing. "See you at practice!"

Shimada harrumphed and found a table by himself. He grumbled as he sipped his soup.

He was soon joined by his commander. "So, how do you fancy your new partner, Shimada?" the commander asked.

"Too noisy." He finished his soup and separated his ration chopsticks without mercy.

"The boy is nervous. Go easy on him. He deserves to be your partner."

Shimada looked at the commander and raised an eyebrow.

"Top of his class. Able to execute maneuvers even his teachers could not master. Deadly firing aim. Besides being exceptional with that staff of his."

"Indeed?" The short resume did pique his interest.

"Good. Now I have your attention." The commander patted his shoulder. "Give the boy a chance, Shimada. See what he can do."

"Yes, sir."

The commander went on to another table. Shimada grumbled as he munched his rice. He glanced at the table where his partner was surrounded by a group of laughing young men. The commander had better be right.

Soon the alarm sounded for the start of the morning drills.

Shimada found his partner beside one cruiser. The pilot was looking it up and down, talking to it and patting it like it were a horse. He gave a short wave when he saw the swordsman. The swordsman gave a short nod, and took his position at the helm of the cruiser. The pilot smiled and hopped onto the cockpit.

"I should like to have a feel of how you work," Shimada called out from his perch.

"Sure thing, Kanbei-sama," Shichiroji grinned. "Basic maneuvers?"

"A good start, I suppose."

The pilot started the engines, and the cruiser began to rise up into the clouds.

"Left," Shimada said.

Shichiroji maneuvered the cruiser leftward. It was so smooth that Shimada did not lose his footing for a second.

"Right."

The shift was quick and yet efficient. Shimada could not help but be impressed.

In front of them, the commander had positioned several obstacles for the practice. "You wanna quick pass through those?" Shichiroji asked. "A quick chop through all of them?"

"Is mind-reading one of your other talents?" Shimada asked back, not sure if he was at the butt of a coming joke.

"Nah. You just look like the kind who wants some quick sword practice early," the pilot chuckled. "And, you want to impress us rookies, doncha?"

Shimada chuckled in reply. "A quick chop through all of them, then."

Shichiroji grinned back. This was his kind of game.

The pilot seemed to know what Shimada wanted, without him having to say so. The cruiser moved in toward the target at just the right angle, perfect for the perfect slice through the middle. The cruiser then wasted no time or smoke, and moved on toward the next target. The swordsman only needed to say "right" or "left".

The cruiser descended as smoothly as it rose, and came to a complete stop. The swordsman had not lost his footing during the entire drill.

Shichiroji threw open the cockpit. "Well?" The pilot grinned widely. "Whaddyathink, Kanbei-sama?"

The swordsman had to admit. He just had the smoothest ride on a cruiser that day, thanks to the irritating rookie.

But Shimada was not ready to admit it aloud yet.

"Too early to tell from just one drill, rookie."

The pilot growled as he jumped out of the cruiser.

It was much the same during the afternoon drills. Both the pilot and the swordsman were generally quiet. Both were stealing glances at each other, wondering what the other was thinking. Shimada, for his part, was impressed by the pilot's skills…if not his personality.

"Tomorrow's drills will be harder, rookie," Shimada warned at the end of the run.

"Like that's supposed to scare me, Grandpa?" Shichiroji shot back.

"Stop calling me Grandpa."

"Stop calling me rookie!"

"Hmph." Shimada walked away.

"Hmph yourself!" Shichiroji marched in the other direction.

But it was the after-dinner session that was interesting.

None of the soldiers had left. Swordsmen opposite pilots, all were still assembled at the mess hall, still sizing each other. In good nature, of course, but with the intent to know the worth of each side.

"You swordies have more hot air than we do," Shichiroji teased. His buddies cheered him on.

"You rookies are all bluff," the swordsmen answered. "You don't know everything!"

"But you don't, either! We're better than you at a few things." The pilot faced his friends. "Right, guys?" And his fellow pilots cheered.

"Like what, Blondie?" one swordman challenged.

"For instance, I bet I can beat your best swordie at a drinking match."

The soldiers all looked at Shimada. Shimada raised an eyebrow. "You don't know what you're getting into, rookie!" one of the other swordsmen said.

"I'm better at holding my drink than all of you," Shichiroji declared.

"Prove it."

"Let me."

The soldiers all turned their heads toward Shimada again.

Shichiroji walked around the table and sat across Shimada. "Come on, Your Highness. Or are you chicken?"

A general "Oooooooh" came from the assembly. Shimada did not move. But his mouth bent into a more decided frown.

"It's a bet, Kanbei-sama," the pilot tossed his head. "Last man standing gets a free dinner at the mess hall."

"Dinner at the mess hall is ALWAYS free!" a swordsman chimed in.

"Well, then. If I win, my next trip on the town is on your tab, Kanbei-sama." He smiled from ear to ear.

Shimada placed a hand on his sword. "If you go down first, you will get this sword fixed at your expense. Not as easy as you think."

"Deal."

The rest of the men were more than ready to oblige. A pilot went into the kitchen and took out a set of sake cups. Two swordsmen went into the kitchen as well and brought back four large jugs of sake. The pilot tweaked his nose and sat down in front of the swordsman. A cup and a jug was placed in front of each of them.

"Last man standing, Kanbei-sama," Shichiroji reminded, and took up the cup in front of him. "Bottoms up!" The sake went down in one gulp.

Shimada nodded and smoothly drank his first cup as well.

"Let's see how long you'll last, Grandpa!" the pilot sneered.

"Rookies should not talk so quickly," the swordsman retorted, and calmly sipped another cup down.

The pilot gulped down the sake as soon as the cups were refilled. The swordsman drank each cup slowly, but consistently. Both groups of soldiers rooted for whoever they knew best.

It was a close match.

The four jugs of sake disappeared between the two young men.

Another two were disappearing between them.

The pilot was beginning to sway and drawl. The swordsman was moving slower than before. Some of their spectators had dropped off to doze. Still others have walked away to sing drunken songs.

Shimada placed an elbow on the table. He leaned his head on his hand. Shichiroji saw this, and bravely gulped two cups in quick succession. The pilot had not noticed that the swordsman was not swaying, nor snoring, nor falling off.

"Give up?" the pilot asked.

The swordsman raised his head and slowly drank in another cup.

"Oh, yeah?" Shichiroji emptied the jug into his sake cup and gulped.

Shimada had leaned on his hand again.

The pilot stood up. "You think….you're so good at…everything. But…but…swordie can never fly cruiser like…like…I can! I will make you respect me, swordie, I will, I will!"

For some reason only known to him, Shimada did not move, nor look up. He maintained his current position.

"Am better than you at this, it admit, swordie! Come on!"

Still the swordsman did not move.

The other pilots were beginning to pat Shichiroji on the back and to cheer. Many of the swordsmen were cheering as well.

Shichiroji turned around and make a grand drunken bow. "See?" the pilot swayed and drawled. "Beat him, I did. Square and fair."

The pilot threw up into an empty soup bowl.

His friend just barely made it to his side. "Roji!"

"Am fine, pal, fine, really…" another bout into the soup bowl… "just drink too much had. But, beat I Kanbei-sama square and fair, yes?"

As if to settle the issue, Shichiroji reached for the jug, poured out another cup (spilling too much of the sake onto the table in the process), and gulped it down. He followed it with another. He was swaying too much. He sat down, and dizzily pointed at the swordsman. "Me you owe. Tomorrow you pay…."

The pilot flopped onto the table. And began to snore, bloodshot eyes half-open.

Just then, slowly, the man at the other half of the table began to stir. He raised his head and sat up with confidence. He took the jug beside him, poured out a cup of sake, and drank it.

He faced the blonde young man slumped over the table. "You said, last man standing."

He was answered by a snore.

"Moderation." Shimada smirked. "That's one more thing you still have to learn, rookie."

Those who were still awake perked up and gaped, as Shimada stood from the table and walked away. A few of the swordsmen began a steady clap…clap…clap…clap. Others whistled and hooted.

Something made Shimada look back at the pilot, prostrate over the table.

"Also, for the record, I am twenty-five."

He slowly walked away again. It was hard to maintain complete composure after consuming two jugs of sake.

But a chirpy voice came from behind, before dying out. "I'll remember, Kanbei-sama!"

………………………………

Sorry. I do admit to liking the pilot more than the swordie, all of you know that.

I figure that by the time ten years had passed, Roji had gotten so used to calling Kanbei with a –sama that he couldn't stop even after years of not seeing him. Also, my stab at their ages is just my guess, but may not be correct. Definitely Kanbei is older than Roji, but even in the original movie we're not sure by how much.

Thanks for reading. To all the reviewers, thanks for reviewing. Place me on Story Alert if you want to be told in what era the next chapter will appear. (sigh…)


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